


your soul could never grow old

by cyclothimic



Series: sweet vengeance [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Cancer, F/F, I cried while writing this, M/M, SO SAD, chondrosarcoma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3568817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyclothimic/pseuds/cyclothimic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or their shenanigans with the dog</p>
            </blockquote>





	your soul could never grow old

_When your legs don't work like they used to be,_

_And I can't sweep you off of your feet,_

_Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?_

_Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?_

_-Thinking Out Loud, Ed Sheeran_

* * *

"What are you doing?" Rachel burst.

Quinn was lying on her back across the floorboards while Spawn was doing the same, their heads side by side. And Rachel could hear Quinn muttering to the dog about Disney and how Minnie had two Moms so he shouldn't have to worry.

Quinn paused mid-speech and only turned her head sideways to see Rachel standing by the island in the kitchen, still dressed in her PJs. And then a grin spread across her face.

"Hanging out with the dog," she simply answered. "Good morning, wife."

One couldn't blame Rachel for smiling. She dared anyone who had seen her wife right now to  _not_  smile at any given moment they were around Quinn Fabray. Seriously, the woman was a ball of sunshine and her sunshine-ness was so infectious it was quite unbelievable.

"Wanna join us?" Quinn invited as she waved her hand in a come-here motion.

Rachel remembered when Spawn had thrown up on the exact same spot and Rachel had to clean up because Santana had dragged Quinn out on a shopping trip yesterday. She hid the grimace from making its appearance on her face and just shook her head.

"Too bad," Quinn said before turning back to the dog that was thumping his tail against the floorboards, waiting for his Mommy to keep talking about Minnie.

A helpless laugh escaped Rachel when she heard the sentence 'given that Minnie's Mommy does not have broken legs but that's fine because I can still have sex just ask Rachel' coming out of Quinn's mouth. She moved away from the island and walked towards Quinn with a lazy gait. And then she sat next to Quinn, her ass next to Quinn's head.

Quinn turned to her and looked up at her with a smile. As her eyes met those beautiful, soulful hazel green eyes, her breath wasn't taken away; her heart didn't skip a beat; there was no electric. She simply appreciated how much those eyes were capable of expressing and how much she loved the owner of those eyes.

She lowered her head to peck her on the lips. Quinn hummed in appreciation. When Rachel lifted her head and sat upright again, Quinn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

She hummed again. "Your ass still smells good. And looks good too," she added.

Rachel released a full-blown laugh and shook her head at her wife. "You're crazy."

"Crazy in love with you," Quinn said smoothly.

Rachel tilted her head. "Uh huh."

Spawn then scrambled onto his front and put his paws heavily on Quinn's arm, yapping at her. Rachel glared at the dog. She couldn't believe her competition for her wife's attention was a damn dog. Spawn paid no mind to his Mama, just to his Mommy.

Quinn gently removed Spawn's paws from her arm and used that arm to stroke Spawn's ear, knowing how much he enjoyed it. She cooed the dog, as if he was a real baby.

Rachel knew then any future efforts to gain Quinn's attention would be in vain, so she pushed herself to her feet and announced, "Well, I have to go to work. What are your plans today?"

"I'm gonna have to help out at the bakery for a while now since Santana's on vacation with Brittany and my nephew," Quinn said absently, occasionally making yapping noises at Spawn.

Rachel hummed in acknowledgement and went back to their room to shower and change. Twenty minutes later, she came out, dressed to the nines in her work outfit and went back to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. She was glad Quinn hadn't decided to test her limits and try to make breakfast again.

God knows what kind of disaster that would make.

* * *

Rachel laughed when Quinn practically threw her on the couch and sprawled herself on top her, sprinkling kisses down from her forehead to her chin and then to her neck. Her giggles abruptly transformed to a resounding moan when Quinn sucked on her sensitive spot. She put her hands on Quinn's waist and gripped tightly.

She gasped when Quinn somehow managed to slip one of her legs between Rachel's, directly pressed up against her crotch. Quinn lifted her head and looked down at Rachel with a mischievous grin.

"Happy 35th birthday," she whispered.

"There is  _no_ need to input my age," Rachel protested in a strangled voice as Quinn went back to place hickeys on her. "You could've just wished me a happy birthday."

Quinn removed her lips from Rachel's skin again. Rachel groaned in displease. "You're a cougar," Quinn teased.

Rachel struggled to untug her hand from between the pressure of their bodies pressed together and pointed a finger right in her wife's face. "You're fucking 34."

"Which makes you a cougar," Quinn said matter-of-factly.

"It's  _one_  year."

"You're still older."

"By five months!" Rachel argued.

Quinn was quiet as she stared at Rachel. Rachel watched Quinn's eyes travel from her hair to her nose to her chin to her neck to her chest and then to her eyes. Rachel swallowed when she saw that the lust in Quinn's eyes had grown in intensity, her pupils more dilated.

"Are you really gonna argue with me about this rather than let me give you a proper birthday celebration?" Quinn said, her voice huskier than ever.

Rachel was wetter than ever. "Yeah, I'd rather prefer the celebration," she whispered and tugged Quinn's head down to kiss her.

They were so into it and Quinn was already tugging her shirt off when suddenly a bark came from right next to them.

Quinn and Rachel jumped apart as if they'd been caught by their parents. Rachel grunted aloud when she saw that it was Spawn, yearning for Quinn's attention again. She cursed under her breath.

"I can't believe a dog is ruining my birthday," she muttered as she stood up and headed to their bedroom. She rolled her eyes when she heard Quinn laughed behind her.

She flopped onto the bed and glared up at the ceiling. Sometime, she regretted getting that dog. But seeing how happy Quinn was with him, she was willing to let it past.

But he interrupted her birthday sex! Her delicious birthday sex with her wife!

"Ugh!" she forced out loud and rolled over until she's face down on the bed.

Not long later, she heard the door shut and the lock clicked. And then the bed dipped on Quinn's side. And then there was someone on top of her, kneading her shoulders.

"Now where were we?" Quinn whispered huskily into her ear.

Rachel leaped and threw Quinn onto her back, straddling her.

* * *

She stopped short in her tracks when she saw them in their snow-filled backyard, all bundled up. Rachel put on her jacket and wrapped a cashmere scarf around herself before descending the steps to put her feet on the white snow.

She frowned at the frolicking duo in front of her. "Whose scarf is that?" she asked tentatively.

Quinn looked up, a bright grin on her face. She looked down at Spawn and then back up at her wife. "Mine," she said.

Rachel's mouth opened slightly as she stared at the dog that was still leaping around Quinn, urging her to play with him. "You put your own scarf on our dog?" she exclaimed in disbelief.

Quinn frowned in confusion. "What's wrong with that?"

The brunette could only display an adoring smile at Quinn's question. She shook her head and approached her wife, taking her hands and tugging her down to give her a kiss. "Nothing's wrong with it," she said. Then she looked down at Spawn who was now nudging at her very harshly with his head, trying to push her away. "She's my damn wife, Spawn. I get her before you do," she snapped.

Quinn giggled and nuzzled the top of Rachel's head. "Do you wanna build a snowman with us?" she asked.

"You know, whenever I hear that phrase, the song will play in my head and it will never stop," Rachel complained.

" _Disney_  does that."

"Spawn can't build snowmen though."

Quinn winked and looked down at their dog. "I'm sure we can teach him." She looked back up to Rachel with an expectant expression that Rachel couldn't refuse.

Which was how she ended up spending more than she should out in the cold trying to teach the dog to build a snowman and developed a cold for it.

But what can she do?

What Quinn wanted, Quinn got it. She wouldn't want it any other way.

* * *

"Berry, your dog's eating up Brittany's birthday cake," Santana complained, arm extended to point in the direction of the cake.

Rachel lifted her head and followed Santana's finger. Sure enough, Spawn was there, gobbling up the cake like nobody's business. "It's not chocolate, is it?" she asked carefully with a wince.

"Berry!" Santana snapped.

Rachel directed her gaze at her sister-in-law with an innocent helpless expression, complete with wide eyes and open mouth. "Santana, you know as well as I do that dog doesn't listen to me even though I'm his part owner. Quinn's the Queen," she said, smiling as if she was proud of herself for managing to rhyme.

Santana groaned and dropped next to Rachel at the dinner table. "Where the hell is my sister, anyway?" she demanded.

Rachel pointed in their general direction and followed her own finger. "Your brother stole her."

Quinn was standing in the middle of the living room, dancing with Blaine to a hippy song. Rachel swore her ears nearly bled when she heard it playing. But it was Brittany's favorite song and it was Brittany's birthday so she couldn't say anything.

Which was why she was sitting here, drowning out the awful song and paying attention to her adorable nephew.

She took the pacifier from Joseph's hands and put it on the table. "What do you even feed this little guy?" She lifted Joseph from the baby chair and put him on her lap.

Santana sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ask his grandmother," she droned.

Rachel chuckled. Maribel Lopez sure loved to feed the children in the house like nobody's business. She looked around her and air-kissed her wife when Quinn looked her way.

"This is one hell of party, huh?"

"Your dog is eating the cake!"

* * *

She lifted the flute of champagne in her hand and smiled at the blonde standing in the midst of the invitees.

"This art gallery wouldn't have happened if not for my wife, Quinn," she announced. Quinn blushed but grinned in appreciation. "Let me tell you one thing, she knows absolutely  _nothing_  about art." The entire room burst with chuckles and laughter. Quinn sent Rachel a fake glare. "But Quinn has inspired me in so many things, including my wider appreciation for more varieties of art. I've traveled many places with my wife, and in each country, I will purchase at least  _one_  art piece; an art piece that would remind me of her in some way. And then, it piles up, which is how this gallery came to fruition."

Rachel put down the flute on the round table on the stage and took the scissors on it. She walked towards the string she had to cut to unveil the plaque on which the name of the gallery would be displayed.

"Hence why I named this gallery," she braced the scissors at the string and winked at her wife before snipping it, " _Quinn's Muse_."

The room exploded in applause and whoops. Some ladies were even crying. And then there was one blonde, fighting her way through the crowd, tears streaming down her face; a Latina following her, yelling Spanish instructions for them to get out of the way.

Rachel descended the steps as Quinn made her way closer and they clashed into each other's arms. Rachel ran her hand through Quinn's hair and laughed into the woman's neck while the other woman sobbed in her arms.

"I love you," Rachel whispered.

Quinn nodded, unable to find her voice to return her sentiment. But Rachel knew.

A man in suit tapped her on her shoulder with a sheepish look on his face. She drew away from her wife's arms and looked to him.

"Excuse me, Miss Berry, but I think your dog is trying to tear up one of the art pieces," he squeaked.

Her eyes widened while Quinn could only choke on her laughter.

"Damn dog," she hissed.

* * *

Rachel watched her wife talking to the dog, sitting on the hospital bench like it was her home. Spawn was listening intently though Rachel doubted he knew anything Quinn was talking about.

Normally, Rachel would love it and join them and revel in Quinn's utter innocence and tolerance for the dog. Normally, she would.

But this wasn't normally. This was anything but normal.

They were getting older. Rachel was already fifty and Quinn was forty-nine. It was surprising how the dog had managed to live up until now and still be such an active and healthy dog.

They were getting older. And Quinn had developed cancer.

Chondrosarcoma, to be specific.

When Artie had told them with that solemn expression of his, Rachel almost wanted to leap across the desk and knock him out. Of all things that they'd expected, they never expected this.

"It's an extremely rare kind of cancer. It is composed of cells derived from transformed cells that produce cartilage. It started in your kneecap, but unfortunately, we've discovered it too late and it has spread to both of your legs and a part of your spine. Amputation is out of the question. And this cancer is resistant to both radiology and chemotherapy."

"So I'm dying, is what you're saying," Quinn said softly.

Artie had nodded.

Now, they were out here. With the dog.

"Quinn," Rachel whispered.

Her wife stopped talking to the dog, but her posture remained the same: hunkered down, arms propped on her aching knees, stiff as ever. And then she stood up abruptly. Rachel steadied her when she grimaced in pain and wobbled.

"Let's go home," Quinn requested.

Rachel pursed her lips and nodded. They took the elevator and went down to the parking lot. Rachel buckled Quinn in and made sure Spawn was safe in the backseat before pulling out of the parking lot.

It took them twenty minutes to reach home. Quinn released Spawn from the backseat and let him out in the backyard. She herself sat in one of the lawn chairs they'd purchased in a yard sale. Rachel quietly sat down in the one next to her.

Fifteen minutes of silence passed, with Spawn chasing his own tail and butterflies and Quinn smiling at the dog and Rachel staring worriedly at her wife.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Quinn finally said, her voice hoarse. Rachel frowned in confusion. Quinn stared down at the stress ball she held in her hand. "I didn't know we'd have such a short time together."

Rachel bolted from the chair and squeezed in next to Quinn, careful not to hurt her legs and wrapped her arms around her wife, allowing Quinn to bury her face into Rachel's neck. "Don't be sorry," Rachel choked out around the lump in her throat. "It's not your fault."

"I just want more time with you," Quinn whispered. Rachel felt moisture on the skin of her neck and watched as Quinn's shoulders started to shake. "I didn't expect a deadline."

Five months. That was all Artie had given her.

Rachel shushed her as she resisted crying herself. She had to be strong for Quinn. She  _needed_  to.

"I'll take the next five months off. I'm gonna spend all those time with you that you'll get tired of me," Rachel declared. "Screw the company. I'll lose it if I lose it."

"I'm sorry," Quinn wept.

A drop of tear slipped out of Rachel's eye, followed by a torrent of many more. "I love you," Rachel whispered.

* * *

One month in and Quinn required a cane.

When Spawn gnawed off an inch of the cane, Rachel was pissed off. But Quinn claimed that she loved it and refused to change it.

True to her word, Rachel had taken an indefinite amount of time from work and used all of it to spend with her wife.

Today, they were walking Spawn in Central Park. They had a slow pace so Quinn wouldn't have to exert herself. When Rachel saw the sweat beading Quinn's forehead, she made them sit down and let Spawn frolic in the grass.

"How are you feeling?" Rachel asked in concern.

"Fine."

"Quinn," Rachel chastised.

Quinn turned to look at her, a smile on her face with no restrain. "I'm in pain, Rach. I will always be for the next four months. But I'm fine and happy because I get to spend time with you and Spawn. I'm fine."

Rachel nodded and kissed Quinn's cheek. "You wanna get ice-cream?" she asked.

Quinn nodded with an excited grin. "Hell yes."

* * *

Two months in and Quinn needed a wheelchair.

They were at the weekly family dinner at Maribel's place. Joseph was playing with Spawn in the living room while Blaine and Brittany were busy helping Maribel prepare the meal.

Quinn was sitting in her wheelchair by the couch in the living room, one leg on Rachel's lap as Rachel massaged her muscles. Kurt and Santana were sitting on the couch, watching them.

Maribel had made the courtesy to invite Sebastian and Puck this time so they were both sitting on the floor, simultaneously entertaining the child while chatting with Quinn.

They all scurried to the dinner table when dinner was announced.

"Oh, Mrs. Lopez, this is the best steak I've ever had in my life," Puck praised, gobbling down the food.

"Oh thank you."

Joseph quickly finished his food because he wanted to play with Spawn. And when he did, he had hurried to jump out of his seat and ran to the living room, knocking Quinn's wheelchair in the progress.

Quinn yelped when she rolled away from the table and nearly fell over.

"Joseph!" Santana scolded, glaring at her son.

Rachel had jumped out of her seat and knelt in front of her wife, surveying every inch of Quinn to see if she was hurt. Quinn patted Rachel's hand and smiled down at her in an attempt to comfort her.

"It's okay, Santana. I'm okay." She rolled herself back to her place and waited for Rachel to take her own seat next to her. The atmosphere had turned so somber. "Don't worry, Joe. I'm fine. You can go play with Spawn."

"Thank you, Aunt Quinn!"

Rachel had suddenly lost her appetite as she looked at her wife, who had gone so pale and gaunt. Fear ate at her insides. What would she do when the time came? What would she  _do_? She clenched her jaw and looked away.

"Oh, Quinn," Maribel said, crying silent tears.

"Mom," Quinn admonished weakly, "don't cry." Maribel shook her head and put her face in her hand as she sobbed into her hand. Quinn sighed and smiled feebly, her eyes reddening. "Please, I don't want my final three months to be filled with crying and sadness."

"Quinn," Santana started.

"No," Quinn insisted, shaking her head. She sighed again. "It has happened, okay? I'm  _dying_." Rachel winced and instinctively took Quinn's hand in hers. "You can't help me. Crying won't be able to help so what is the point?"

"You're my baby girl, Quinnie," Maribel said.

"I know, Mom. And I just want you to try your best and be happy around your baby girl. I don't have much time left and I just want to enjoy it with you,  _all of you_. I want you to keep cooking me dinner. I want Santana to keep up being a sarcastic bitch. I want Puck to keep making dirty jokes. I want Sebastian to keep teaching me tech stuff. I want it all to be as normal as possible."

Rachel felt Quinn squeezing her hand and looked up to see her wife staring at her with a sad smile.

"I want you to keep on loving me like you always do," she whispered. Rachel wiped at her eyes and nodded, unable to form words. Quinn looked back to their family and asked, "Can I please have that?"

Not two seconds later, they all nodded in unison.

* * *

Quinn made it out to six months to the surprise and joy to everyone.

Five months in and Quinn had collapsed in the middle of playing Tic-Tac-Toe with Rachel because they were bored. And then she was sent to the hospital immediately.

Rachel had thought the time had come that day. But Quinn was nothing if not stubborn. And another thirty one days came and went with Quinn staying in the hospital.

Quinn had spent all those days tutoring Joseph and playing with Spawn and making friends with the hospital faculty and loving Rachel. Soon enough, even the director of the hospital would come to her room just for the sake of a silly chat.

Ever since Quinn had found herself in the hospital, she would tell Rachel she loved her in random times, such as when she was pooping in the bathroom and Rachel was waiting outside, or when she was kissing the top of Spawn's head.

Rachel would take count of each time, keeping those words in her heart as if they were the treasure she'd been looking for, for decades.

Every night, when Quinn had fallen asleep, Rachel would cuddle up in the cot with Spawn and cry into his hair for about an hour before slipping in next to Quinn because she couldn't sleep without Quinn.

And then one day in June, Rachel had woke up and looked at Quinn snoozing in her arms and she just  _knew_  that would be the day.

Quinn was paler than ever. Her breathing had gotten more difficult. She could barely move. And she was sleeping more and more and more.

Rachel held back the tears and suppressed the sinking feeling in her stomach, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible and went outside the room to dial everyone's number.

"Today's the day," she'd whispered. They wouldn't ask her how she knew. They trusted her and promised her they'd be right there.

Rachel went back in and saw that Spawn was sitting right there next to Quinn's bed, quiet and majestic. Rachel had never ever seen Spawn so calm and quiet before. And she knew that he could sense it as well.

Quinn was awake a moment later and she smiled at Rachel first thing.

"Good morning, wife," she'd said, her voice weak and sickly.

Rachel smiled and kissed her. "Morning, Quinn. I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too."

Everyone was there eventually and they spent the day like any usual day. Except they were all waiting for the time to come.

At five minutes before the clock struck five, Quinn's monitor started acting out and her eyes were drooping closed. Rachel had panicked despite how she had prepared herself for five months and pressed the emergency button above the bedframe, begging Quinn to stay with her.

The doctors had rushed in – including Artie and the director of the hospital – and they all pushed Rachel and everyone out of the room while they tried their best to save their mutual friend.

When they came out, Rachel knew by the look in their eyes that Quinn had finally run out of time.

They all slithered into the room, surrounding Quinn's bed. Quinn was smiling but she looked so tired and ready. Her arms feebly extended and Rachel hurried to her bedside with Spawn in tow. She took hold of Quinn's hand and kissed it.

"It's time, Rach," Quinn wheezed. Rachel was crying and nodding. One of her arms reached out to stroke Quinn's hairline, just the way she liked it. "I'm sorry." Rachel shook her head. She wanted to say something but the lump in her throat was stopping her. Quinn glanced away from Rachel and to her family and friends. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

Santana had whimpered a weak "No."

Quinn looked to Joseph. The boy was crying as well. He knew damn well what was happening. "Take care of your moms for me, alright, little guy?" He nodded. "You're a smart boy, Joe." Joseph whined and frantically rubbed away at his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt. "I love you, okay?" He nodded again.

Quinn then looked to her sister and brother and mother. "Take care of mom, okay?" Santana and Blaine nodded. "I love you."

"We love you too, baby girl," Maribel said, taking Quinn's other hand in hers. "You're my baby girl."

Quinn nodded. She slowly turned back to her wife. "You have to promise me you won't stop your life just because I'm gone," Quinn demanded. Rachel was quiet. She couldn't lie. "Promise me, Rachel."

Rachel released a shivering breath. "I promise," she said.

"Please take care of my family," Quinn asked. Rachel nodded with a whispered agreement. "Spawn's gonna be your family from now on. He'll take my place. He'll live a long life, this one. I know it."

"Yeah," Rachel agreed blindly.

"You will walk him. You will feed him. You will play with him. You will watch crappy movies with him. You will bring him to dinner. You will cry with him. You will do all those things with him," Quinn stated, her breath getting shallower.

"I will."

"He promised me he'll stay by your side for as long as he can."

Rachel laughed tearfully. "He did?"

Quinn nodded. "You're the love of my life."

"You're the love of my life," Rachel reiterated.

"You just know that I'll be with you until the end of the line," Quinn said, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

Quinn's smile widened and she was crying soundlessly. She looked like she was going to say more but her heart rate was increasing. Rachel could see it. Down to seconds.

She stood up and kissed Quinn on the lips. She could feel Quinn kissed her back. She stayed there until the monitor beeped a persistent and never-ending beep, announcing the departure of a soul. Rachel choked on her tears and released Quinn's lips, resting her forehead against Quinn's.

Quinn was still warm and there was still the slightest pink on her cheeks.

It was as if she didn't just  _die._

But she did.

She listened as Maribel fell to her knees and wailed. She listened as Santana howled for Quinn and Brittany comforting her wife, sobbing. She listened as Joseph called for Aunt Quinn so desperately. She listened as Spawn whimpered by her leg.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Spawn!" Rachel called.

The dog came bounding in from the backyard and into the kitchen where Rachel was pouring kibble into his bowl. Rachel laughed when he bumped into her leg and bounced back.

She put the bowl down and he instantly buried his head into the kibble. She sat next to the dog and watched as he ate.

Quinn was right. This dog had lived a long life. Five years after she was gone and he was still fucking tearing things up and ruining her life.

But she wouldn't have it any other way.

She promised Quinn she would live on. She promised Quinn that she wouldn't abandon Spawn.

She would keep her promise.

She knew Quinn would be proud of her.

**Author's Note:**

> you're totally allowed to hate me.


End file.
